Poured out as a Drink Offering

I have been busy in the garden all morning, in between dodging the showers.  The Revd Syston Whyte-Plumb seems to have filled every inch of the ground with buried bottles and cans. I am told this was an attempt to hide his "habit". He received his drinks orders from the Tesco Internet service, but was too embarrassed to take the empties to the bottle bank or put them in the recycling bin. So he buried them at night.

After a couple of hours of digging I had a pile of bottles and a pile of cans, each as high as Goliath's navel and probably rather less appealing. And by this stage I was feeling quite tired. I sat down on the bench in the porch for a moment to have a short rest, and must have fallen asleep.

I was woken just a moment ago by two of my chapel members - the ones who saw me outside the Crown and Cushion last Friday night. Maud has rather a loud voice, and what dragged me out of the dreamless sleep of the innocent and godly were the words "No wonder he's asleep - look what he's got through already this morning." To which Elsie responded "Yeah, just the same as the last one."

I care not for the good favour of Man, but at this rate nobody's going to take the slightest note of my sermon on the dangers of intoxicating spirits in a few weeks.